


All That Glitters

by Nope



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-28
Updated: 2005-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope
Summary: Neville interrupts an assignation.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 10





	All That Glitters

Professor Sprout patted the last of the Goblin's Breath into place and sat back on her heels to look over the beds. She was surprised to find that she wasn't alone. At the other end of the greenhouse, Neville was crouched over in a cloud of multi-coloured dust, humming as he shook off each of the Pixie Puffs' branches before they snapped under the weight of pollen.

"Neville?" she called, getting up and heading over.

"...never leaves a single ring..."

"Neville!"

He looked up at her, eyes slowly focusing as if coming out of trance. "Oh, hello, Professor. I'm almost done."

"It's gone eight o'clock, Neville. You've missed dinner."

"Really?" said Neville, sitting up abruptly to look through the glass at the darkening sky outside. As he moved, pollen cascaded down from his hair and he sneezed, falling backwards. The impact sent up another dust cloud, covering them both in glittering specks of colour. "Um. Sorry, Professor. I'll clean it up, honest."

Sprout laughed, helping him to his feet. "Never you mind that, Neville. You go on, get your own self cleaned up."

"Um," Neville looked around the greenhouse. "I was going to re-pot the mimbus--"

"It'll wait 'til tomorrow, Neville. Get along with you now."

"Yes, Professor." Neville waited until she had bustled off before sighing and slowly gathered up his things. He lingered at the doorway, but Professor Sprout pointedly waved goodbye, so he stepped out, closing it behind him. It was warm out; not greenhouse warm, but pleasant, with a soft breeze and the sun just setting. Neville picked the long route back to the castle and sauntered along it, hands in his pockets, humming again.

Turning the corner brought him into the Castle's shadow and as soon as he ducked his head to pull his robes in tighter he walked right into a couple. There was a confusion of apologies before he noticed first that it was Ron and Hermione and second that Ron was looking delightfully flushed and blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. Ron had taken to letting his hair grow, "like Bill's, see? Girls dig the hair." Neville stared as it promptly flopped back down again.

Ron finally recognised him, and smiled the much recognised I-am-an-innocent-Weasley smile. "Oh, hey, Neville. We were just, uh, just--"

"Doing our rounds!" put in Hermione, straightening her top, and then frowned at Neville. "And you shouldn't be out so late."

"Professor Sprout was," started Neville and stopped when Ron reached out. "What--?"

Ron messed with Neville's hair, laughing as coloured sparkles rose into the air. "Hah! Cool!"

"Oh," said Neville; then, "Oh, I was-- In the--"

"Tell me later. Come on, Hermione." Ron caught her hand, tugged her on. "If you're really lucky, I'll show you my broomstick tricks."

He gave her a leering grin and Hermione let out an affronted "Ronald Weasley!"

Ron dodged Hermione's hand and went to tickle her and, shrieking and laughing and dodging around each other and the corner, they were quickly lost from view.

"--greenhouse," finished Neville.

Their giggles followed him into the castle. It was a long climb to the Gryffindor tower and he didn't pass a living soul on the way there, although Phyllida Spore nodded hello from her portrait and Peeves swooped past him, stopping just long enough to point and laugh before spiralling up through the ceiling. Neville glared half-heartedly after him, felt rather silly giving angry looks to wooden beams and trudged the rest of the way to the common room where the Fat Lady let him in with a cheerful answered "Right!" to his mumbled "tinkerbell".

The common-room was packed. Dean looked up as he climbed through the portrait hole and started to say something, but was interrupted by Ginny crashing into him as she tried to escape a Seamus apparently intent on tickling her to death. He waved and left them to it, circling past the group of first-years listening avidly to Colin's thrilling although somewhat factually incorrect tale of the time Harry single-handedly took on the entire Department of Ministries armed only with a magic 8-ball. Whatever that was. Neville escaped up the stairs and ducked into the relative safety of his dorm room.

His occupied dorm room.

Details leapt out at him before he could look away. The knee parting long, slender, clean-shaven legs. The hand sliding up under the oh-so-short skirt. The run in one of the tights. The discarded glasses. The fingers tightly entwined in long blonde hair. The slide of tongue up the long throat. The rose-red lips, parted, glistening. The long, pale fingers clutching the grey checked shirt, the black, scruffy hair. The flutter of mascara defined eyelashes. The ragged breaths. The discarded ties, red and gold and silver and green.

Harry was on his bed. Harry wasn't alone. There was a girl. A Slytherin. On his bed. With Harry.

And then Harry pulled back and opened his eyes and the girl opened hers, grey turned mercury in the glitter of candle-light, and as she lifted her head, except it was he, wasn't it, as he lifted his head to recapture Harry's mouth Neville could quite plainly see the girl was Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter was in his bed with Draco Malfoy and, okay, leaving was a good idea, yes, right now, except as he stepped back he bumped loudly into the door and there was another sudden burst of pollen and he sneezed. Loudly. Three times.

Two gazes shot his way: Draco's dealing death, Harry's coolly curious. Neville sniffed, rubbing at his nose, and gave them a crooked smile through the sparkling cloud. "Sorry. Pixie puff pollen."

"Pretty," said Harry calmly.

"Er. I'll just. Be. Going now. Yes."

"No rush," said Harry and Draco said "What?" or, rather, gave an enraged squeak approximating it.

"Um," managed Neville, watching Harry retrieve his glasses and slide off the bed, watching the way Harry's hips moved when he sauntered easily across the room, the way Harry's unbuttoned shirt swung away from his chest, fell back against skin. "Um. I."

"Yes?" said Harry with a polite smile, as if his fingers weren't lightly brushing against Neville's shoulder.

Draco glared at them, shuffling back on the bed and vainly trying to tug his skirt down, cover his legs.

Neville looked back at Harry who was, wow, very close, I can see my reflection in your eyes close, and swallowed. "Sorry."

He jerked back when Harry's hand rose and Harry blinked at him.

"I was just going to--" And Harry closed the distance, brushing his fingers through Neville's hair. He grinned, looking at his hand. "It's like glitter!" He brought his fingers to his mouth, then paused and gave Neville a quizzical look. "It's safe, right?"

"What? Oh! Um. Yes? I mean, they're used for, um, for." Something. Harry had started licking his fingers at 'yes', long slow swipes of tongue, making little pleased 'mmm' noises. What were the uses of pixie puff pollen? "Stuff."

"Tasty. Like fruity sherbet." Harry grinned again and Neville frowned, thinking it seemed a very long time since he'd last seen Harry look happy, and how this should be a good thing, but was mostly disconcerting, and how Harry had a very pink tongue and it was really fascinating the way it flicked out to wet Harry's lips and clearly someone had stolen his knees.

No wonder he was so clumsy.

Except he wasn't so much falling over as stumbling after Harry, whose fingers were tangled in his robes and tugging him along. Across the room. To the bed. To a Draco Malfoy who, now Neville was standing this close he could see, was also wearing rather pretty green eyeliner. A Draco who was harshly whispering, "you said you locked the door!" at Harry.

"Forgot," said Harry without a hint of remorse.

"I should go," said Neville, while Draco spluttered, enraged.

"I like you where you are." Harry smiled at him. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Yes?" Neville was suddenly very much aware that Harry's hand was still on his robes, less holding now and more idly playing with the fabric. "Yes. Course we are, Harry."

"Well, then."

Harry really did have a very nice smile. All sunny curves and bright glittering eyes and what were they talking about again?

Draco spat, "You complete bastard, Potter."

"Yeah," said Harry, face slipping into a thoughtful frown, not looking away from Neville. "I suspect it was my lack of good role models. What with my family and friends all being killed."

A small smile Neville couldn't quite identify and then Harry's fingertips were brushing his temple and forgot everything except the feel of Harry's fingers carding through his hair, Harry's palm brushing his ear as Harry's hand followed the curve of his skull, around and down through the tips of his hair to caress the back of his neck.

"Mucky pup," said Harry affectionately, then his face went blank for a moment so short Neville could easily have convinced himself he imagined it and Harry turned back to Draco. The little, almost mournful gasp Neville made when Harry's hand left his neck would have embarrassed him if he'd heard it, but he was too busy watching that same hand cross the space between them and smear pixie puff pollen on a flinching Draco's cheeks.

"What--" Draco started, reaching up, but Harry batted his hand away.

"It looks good on you Draco. Bright and shiny." Almost absently, Harry tugged Neville closer to the bed. "All show and little substance."

"Fuck. You."

"Maybe later. And look at you!" This, to Neville. "How'd you end up so shiny?"

"I was helping out." Neville brushed awkwardly at his robes. "In the greenhouses." The plants really did produce a ridiculously large amount of pollen; but then, he reminded himself, that's what they were bred for, so complaining about it was rather silly. "An accident -- it just sort of happened, really."

"Happened all over," said Harry, wandering around Neville who twisted his head to follow then shivered when Harry's hands slid down his back. "Gets everywhere, like sand at the beach. So I'm told."

Harry took hold of Neville's wrist, stopping the absently continued brushing and lifting Neville's hand to examine it. "Look, see?"

"Yeah," managed Neville, eyes fixed on his hand, on the way Harry's mouth was so close to it, the way little specks flew up when Harry breathed on it.

"Got your hands all dirty," said Harry. He casually leant in to Neville who automatically moved away, legs bumping the bed. Harry's hands stayed on Neville, lifting Neville's own towards a first confused, then alarmed Draco, as Harry continued speaking. "Malfoy will lick them clean for you. Won't you, Malfoy?"

"Lick--?" Draco's eyes kept flicking between Neville's hand and Harry's face. "That. This. This wasn't part of the deal, Potter."

"'Whatever I want' you said."

"Yeah, you. Not him."

"But Draco," said Harry, making puppy eyes and pouting over Neville's shoulder, a smirk in his voice. "I really want you to do this for me."

Draco glared at him but slowly leaned forward, darting his tongue against Neville's hand. Neville would have pulled back but Harry's hand was still wrapped around his wrist, a surprisingly strong grip, and Harry himself was standing directly behind Neville, leaving him no space to pull back in to.

"What were you thinking about?" Harry asked.

"Wet," said Neville, and swallowed and tried again. "What?"

"That had you so distracted," Harry explained, "in the greenhouse. Plants? Lessons? Something more interesting? Something like--" He smiled regally down at Draco, while reaching around Neville to undo buttons. "Don't short change him, Malfoy. Use your whole mouth."

Neville felt he really should be protesting, um, something or other, but Draco cleaning his fingers had short-circuited all the bits of his brain not dealing with the feel of lips and tongue.

"Something like that, perhaps?"

"Nuh," Neville managed, which got an almost smirk out of Draco. "N-no."

"Something else? I've seen you, you know." Harry's voice somehow both close and far away. "Looking. Trying not to look like you're looking and looking anyway. In classes, in corridors, at meals. Quick glances in the bathrooms."

Draco's tongue slowly swiped the full length of Neville's finger before his mouth closed over the tip and just as slowly sucked it inside.

"I've heard you, in bed, late at night, when you think everyone else is asleep. What do you think about, Neville? Who's on your mind?" Harry pushed Neville's robes off his shoulders, looking pointedly at Draco until he helped get Neville's arms out of the sleeves. "Strangers? Friends?" His breath was warm on the nape of Neville's neck. "Teachers?"

Draco lowered Neville's hand and smirked when Neville automatically proffered the other.

"Remus," suggested Harry, "with his soft looks and quiet, comforting manners and that ever present dangerous streak lurking just beneath the surface? Shivering against you when you touch his scars?"

Neville sucked a breath in, bit his lip. Draco was looking up at him now, not Harry. Eyes dark and on Neville's. Lips wet and red and wrapped around Neville's fingers. Sliding. In and out.

"Ever wondered what Snape gets up to in those dungeons?" Neville pulled a face and Harry chuckled warmly. "Okay, okay. Something closer to home, perhaps? Dean, perhaps." He reached around Neville, pressed against his back, chin on his shoulder, fingers undoing shirt buttons. "His skin, so dark against yours. Perfect contrast. Artistic, even."

Draco hummed around Neville's fingers. Harry snorted. Neville gasped a little, free hand coming up of its own accord to tentatively touch Draco's hair, lightly stroking silver-blond strands. Draco smiled a little, looking up at Neville, gently nibbling the tips of Neville's fingers. Harry glared down at him, then turned his head to bite at Neville's earlobe, getting a small cry and Neville's renewed attention as reward.

"Maybe," said Harry, fingers drawing light circles Neville's stomach, and when had he got those last buttons open? "Maybe you like to think about Ron." He grinned as Neville twitched against him. "Ron after Quidditch, in the locker room, all sweat slick and stripping."

Draco gave Neville's last finger a perfunctory lick and sat back. Neville moved with him, still stroking Draco's hair, all soft and silky.

"Those sweet freckles of his." Harry's hands slipped lower, undid Neville's belt. "Just waiting for you to lick them. His hands, big and strong, perfectly made to hold you." He rubbed the heel of his palm against the bulge in Neville's pants, feeling Neville shake and moan against him. "Do you think about all that thick, red hair, just waiting for your fingers to tousle?"

"He looks like a bloody sheepdog," Draco snorted. "Potter's little-- OW! Bloody hell, Longbottom!"

Neville tightened his grip on Malfoy's hair, tugging the other boy's head back. "I like Ron's hair."

Harry gave a half-surprised, half-amused chuckle. "Good for you. I like Ron's hair too."

"And I like Malfoy's," added Neville, blushing a little, loosening his grip but not letting go. "It's..."

"Sleek," suggested Harry and Neville nodded. "Soft. Like a girl's." Draco glared. Harry grinned. "Very touchable. And he does so hate it when you mess it up. Don't you, prissy-boy?"

Draco opened his mouth to retort but then snapped it shut and looked away until Neville lightly tugged his hair again.

"You hate it, don't you, Malfoy?" Harry persisted.

"I hate you."

"I know."

"I really, really hate you, Potter," Draco snarled. "I loathe you."

"Love?"

"Loathe, you cunt."

Harry grinned. "I like making him swear."

"What," said Neville, still blushing, eyes not leaving Draco's face. He swallowed, licked his lips. "What else do you like?"

"Like?" murmured Harry against Neville's neck.

"Making him do," said Neville, and heard Harry's breath catch. "Harry?"

Draco was looking up at Harry too, his face pale, cheeks flushed, eyes hard, glittering like the pollen on his skin.

"I like," said Harry, and Neville could hear the grin he couldn't see, and Draco said, harsh and loud, "Don't, Potter."

"Don't?" said Harry mildly, and unzipped Neville's pants.

The downward flick of Draco's gaze would have been more gratifying if his eyes hadn't gone right back to Harry. "This wasn't the deal."

"You already said that."

"Potter! This wasn't--"

"Then piss off," snapped Harry. "You don't want my help anymore? You okay leaving your father to rot in Azkaban? Because I am. So piss off, Malfoy." He slipped his hands into Neville's pants, squeezing. "We're quite happy here."

"Harry," gasped Neville and Draco moaned, "Potter. Harry. Please."

"Well?" Harry gave a humourless smile. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

"Um," began Neville which became 'mmm' when Harry's hand stroked him again. "Oh!"

"Like that?"

"Y-yeah. ...Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I. Uh. I've never actually." Neville felt himself blush again, hot cheeks. Hot all over and despite that Harry's fingers were still burning. "You know. Before."

Draco looked disgusted, but Neville couldn't tell who the look was directed at, and he wished he could see Harry's face but when he turned his head he bumped his cheek against Harry's lips and that just made him blush all the more.

"It's okay," Harry said. "Malfoy has." He carefully pulled Neville's pants further down, and Neville gasped at the feel of air on his skin. "Shh. Try to relax."

Neville looked down, and then he had to look back up again before, between seeing Harry's fingers wrapped around him and Draco's eyes looking up at them, he really embarrassed himself.

Harry kissed his neck. "Breathe, Neville."

Right. Breathing was good. He thought about breathing. Wasn't thinking about the way Harry was pressed against his back. Wasn't thinking about the way Harry's arms were around him, how Harry's hand was on him. Wasn't thinking about the way Harry was pushing him towards Draco's mouth, or the way he could feel Draco's breath, or the momentary pleading look in Draco's eyes, the Draco Malfoy, the Draco who'd insulted and abused and humiliated him for years, or the answering shake of Harry's head, or the way that Draco was leaning holy shit forward and oh god opening his mouth and--

"Uhh!" managed Neville, hips bucking, and heard an answering moan from Harry and a stifled noise from Draco.

"Just breathe," said Harry and licked Neville's neck and Neville's hips bucked again and Draco's hands went to his hips, holding him still, Draco's eyes watering but his lips and tongue still moving, and it's only when Neville wondered why Draco didn't pull back that he noticed both his hands were now tangled in Draco's hair.

"You want it to last, don't you?" With Draco occupied down below, Harry's hands slid back up Neville's body. "Don't think about it. Just let it happen."

Draco's grip tightened.

"Don't," said Harry, voice a little rough now, "don't think about how Ron's, right now, pushing Hermione up against a wall, trousers around his ankles, hot and hard and ready to go."

Neville's hands clenched convulsively and Draco moaned.

"Don't think about Ron pushing you up against a wall. Or Remus, close to the moon, a growl in his throat and his hands on your chest."

Harry's roaming hands fixed on Neville's nipples, rubbing and pinching, and Neville moaned accompaniment. Draco swallowed around Neville, pushing back against the hands in his hair urging him faster, deeper.

"Don't think about Ron and Remus sharing you. Don't think about red hair and freckles and a warm, wet mouth. Don't think about Remus having all that experience, knowing all the best ways to touch you. Don't think about him teaching Ron just how to make you beg. Don't think about them filling you at both ends at once."

Neville bucked, everything focused between his legs, like Harry's voice was skipping his brain entirely, some new form of parseltongue and that would actually be funny if he wasn't having yet another holy shit moment because when he pushed back he could feel Harry was just as hard and aching as he was.

"Please," moaned Neville. "Oh, god, Harry!"

"Definitely," whispered Harry in his ear, "don't think about the way Draco's leaving lipstick on your cock."

Neville whimpered and came.

Draco made a muffled protest, squirming against Neville's insistent hands until finally set free, pulling back, spitting and spluttering disgustedly. "You could have warned me!" He rubbed his mouth on the back of his hand, eyes watering.

Neville just panted, eyes closed and heart racing, leaning into Harry for support and smiling when he felt Harry hump wetly against his back.

"Next time," began Harry.

"Next?!" squeaked Draco.

"Next time, Harry," said Neville, still breathless, "I want you in the dress."

He grinned at the startled silenced and pulled Harry around to kiss him, already planning how he was going to pay Draco back.


End file.
